REMEMBERING FATHER ALEXANDER ON HIS DEATH ANNIVERSARY
What is charisma? A special charm, allure that inspires allegiance or devotion. It is a grace, a gift from God that Father Alexander made good use of in inspiring people. Not by proselytizing or propagandizing, but by being just himself, quietly telling you not to be too hard on yourself. To "live in the present. Forget the past. Just listen to the call of God because He loves you." Always, his message was God loving you. So much so that even a despairing sinner gets to believe it and turns his life around because there is God waiting for everyone to come to Him. He made it sound like a simple requisite that one void of a sense of self-worth can not not heed it. No wonder, whenever parishioners knew he would be the presiding priest, the church would be filled beyond the entrance door. Adult students of mine who had not gone to Church for years started coming back because they could relate to him; he spoke fluent Spanish and Vietnamese aside from his English language, and he was learning Tagalog the last few weeks of his life. He was like a star that skyrocketed from heaven and then vanished just as fast.
To him there were no rejects. The poorest of the poor always first on his list of priority programs. He was so eager to embrace the continuity of our Food Program for the needy, the free health program, the Meal of the Month for the homeless, the ESL Program that has actually been my baby, so many more. At the time of his death, he had some project for the youth. One of the first things he did upon assumption as administrator-pastor of our parish was refurbish the physical facility of the whole compound. Operation Beautification and Cleanliness, he called it. He enjoined the whole neighborhood to participate in the Street Cleaning Operation. Plants and flowers started springing up around. Security fences went up. Suddenly we had a modernized gate built to make ministry members meeting at night feel more safe. The Police was invited to meetings to help build community unity in fighting crime. It seemed like he was always full of ideas he just had to put into action and reality. He helped the needy, counseled the despairing, was always ready to rush to the bedside of the sick and dying whenever called. Perhaps, this was what drained his emotions: he suffered with the suffering.
I had just finished reading my Legion of Mary annual report during our Curia meeting, and had barely sat down when a co-Legionary tapped my shoulder and showed me a text on her cell phone: "Father Alexander passed away this morning." That was Sunday afternoon. We were in disbelief, No, it can't be true! Eloisa, seated next to me, and I bowed our heads, started praying quietly even as we couldn't help weeping, "Lord, please, don't let it be true. Don't take him away from us. Not our beloved pastor." My other co-Legionary went out of the hall where we were having the Curia meeting, frantically trying to reach anyone from the Our Lady of Peace to verify it. Then came an answer from one ministry member: It's true. It was announced in the last afternoon Mass. I wonder if there was a single one in the church with dry eyes the following days. Everyone of us he had touched felt devastated. He was our brother, mentor, counselor, friend most of all.
So many loving memories: When he had met me at the door of the Rectory one Fish Fry day during Lent, he asked if I was coming to join them, and when I answered I couldn't, I just came to get the key to my classroom as I had my ESL class that night, he offered, "I'll have a plate to-go for you," he quickly answered with that look of seriousness you wouldn't think his offer was just out of politeness. Such expression of kindness, so rare even among lay people, I found so touching. I had to say "No, thank you, " but thought how so nice of him. I couldn't, however, possibly bring a whole dish of fish fry to my classroom; it would have meant whetting the appetite of my students with the smell of the fried fish all the while I was teaching.
Another day, as I was going to pick up again my classroom key from the Rectory, I met him in the hallway. He asked how my granddaughter was. (How he remembered happenings in the lives of his flock. He recalled I had flown to Oregon the previous week to visit my granddaughter.) I said, she was fine, but still recovering. He quickly put down the bowl of soup he was snacking on while walking around the Rectory hall. "Come, let's pray for her," he said, and he led in a minute or two of prayer for healing. What priest would do that for your loved ones?
Another day, as I was going to pick up again my classroom key from the Rectory, I met him in the hallway. He asked how my granddaughter was. (How he remembered happenings in the lives of his flock. He recalled I had flown to Oregon the previous week to visit my granddaughter.) I said, she was fine, but still recovering. He quickly put down the bowl of soup he was snacking on while walking around the Rectory hall. "Come, let's pray for her," he said, and he led in a minute or two of prayer for healing. What priest would do that for your loved ones?
Quite a few other experiences. His sense of understanding, thoughtfulness and show of caring for everyone, even to those he just heard of as needing prayers and compassion---it just seemed so spontaneous. Never standoffish. When we had the Pilgrim Virgin of Fatima, I had hoped he would officiate at Mass (because he had such great way of injecting humor in his homilies) but did not dare ask him because I knew he had a load of administrative work. But he must have heard that I kept asking the Rectory (because I was assigned the coordinator and had to do the program) who would be the presiding priest. He approached me the next time I saw him and announced, as though in answer to my unspoken question to him, "I will preside, Blanca." I felt relieved, because I knew our coordinators from far-off counties who had brought the Virgin image (that came all the way from Portugal) were just waiting for that,. having heard of Father Alexander's kindness, humor, and warm ways.
When Father Alexander administered Holy Communion to us, as I approached, he would mention my name, as though to show his recognition of me. Did he do that to others? I'm sure he did. So many other similar experiences of his spontaneous ways narrated by others during his funeral service. He was genuine, natural. unaffected, the veritable Father Alexander. And the saddest thing of all was that, unknown to us, he was battling with his own problems, his illnesses.
What is charisma? A special charm, allure that inspires allegiance or devotion. It is a grace, a gift from God that Father Alexander made good use of in inspiring people. Not by proselytizing or propagandizing, but by being just himself, quietly telling you not to be too hard on yourself. To "live in the present. Forget the past. Just listen to the call of God because He loves you." Always, his message was God loving you. So much so that even a despairing sinner gets to believe it and turns his life around because there is God waiting for everyone to come to Him. He made it sound like a simple requisite that one void of a sense of self-worth can not not heed it. No wonder, whenever parishioners knew he would be the presiding priest, the church would be filled beyond the entrance door. Adult students of mine who had not gone to Church for years started coming back because they could relate to him; he spoke fluent Spanish and Vietnamese aside from his English language, and he was learning Tagalog the last few weeks of his life. He was like a star that skyrocketed from heaven and then vanished just as fast.
To him there were no rejects. The poorest of the poor always first on his list of priority programs. He was so eager to embrace the continuity of our Food Program for the needy, the free health program, the Meal of the Month for the homeless, the ESL Program that has actually been my baby, so many more. At the time of his death, he had some project for the youth. One of the first things he did upon assumption as administrator-pastor of our parish was refurbish the physical facility of the whole compound. Operation Beautification and Cleanliness, he called it. He enjoined the whole neighborhood to participate in the Street Cleaning Operation. Plants and flowers started springing up around. Security fences went up. Suddenly we had a modernized gate built to make ministry members meeting at night feel more safe. The Police was invited to meetings to help build community unity in fighting crime. It seemed like he was always full of ideas he just had to put into action and reality. He helped the needy, counseled the despairing, was always ready to rush to the bedside of the sick and dying whenever called. Perhaps, this was what drained his emotions: he suffered with the suffering.
I had just finished reading my Legion of Mary annual report during our Curia meeting, and had barely sat down when a co-Legionary tapped my shoulder and showed me a text on her cell phone: "Father Alexander passed away this morning." That was Sunday afternoon. We were in disbelief, No, it can't be true! Eloisa, seated next to me, and I bowed our heads, started praying quietly even as we couldn't help weeping, "Lord, please, don't let it be true. Don't take him away from us. Not our beloved pastor." My other co-Legionary went out of the hall where we were having the Curia meeting, frantically trying to reach anyone from the Our Lady of Peace to verify it. Then came an answer from one ministry member: It's true. It was announced in the last afternoon Mass. I wonder if there was a single one in the church with dry eyes the following days. Everyone of us he had touched felt devastated. He was our brother, mentor, counselor, friend most of all.
So many loving memories: When he had met me at the door of the Rectory one Fish Fry day during Lent, he asked if I was coming to join them, and when I answered I couldn't, I just came to get the key to my classroom as I had my ESL class that night, he offered, "I'll have a plate to-go for you," he quickly answered with that look of seriousness you wouldn't think his offer was just out of politeness. Such expression of kindness, so rare even among lay people, I found so touching. I had to say "No, thank you, " but thought it so kind of him. I couldn't possibly bring a whole dish of fish fry; it would have meant whetting the appetite of my students with the smell of the fried fish all the while I was teaching.
Another day, as I was going to pick up again my classroom key from the Rectory, I met him in the hallway. He asked how my granddaughter was. (How he remembered happenings in the lives of his flock. He recalled I flew to Oregon the previous week to visit my granddaughter.) I said, she was fine, but still recovering. He quickly put down the bowl of soup he was snacking on while walking around the Rectory hall. "Come, let's pray for her," he said, and he led in a minute or two of prayer for healing. Quite a few other experiences of his kindness. His sense of understanding, thoughtfulness and show of love to everyone, even to those he just heard of as needing prayers and compassion---it just seemed so spontaneous. Never standoffish. When we had the Pilgrim Virgin of Fatima, I had hoped he would officiate at Mass (because he had such great way of injecting humor in his homilies) but did not dare ask him because I knew he had a load of administrative work. But he must have that I kept asking the Rectory who would be the presiding priest. He approached me the next time I saw him he matter-of-factly said, as though in answer to my unspoken question to him, "I will preside, Blanca." I felt relieved, because I knew our coordinators that brought the Virgin image (that came all the way from Portugal) were just waiting for that. having heard of Father Alexander's kindness. So many other similar experiences of his spontaneous ways narrated by others during his funeral service. And all the time, unknown to us, he was battling with his own problems, his illnesses.
Below is an email from him, circa 2010, that expresses how he could make one feel less bad about having bungled on something. So typical of his comforting words, "Don't be so hard on yourself," to anyone tearing his hair with remorse.
How he could make one feel less bad about oneself after one goofed during Christmas midnight Mass.
From: Fr. Alexander Lewis <alewis@olpeace.org>
To: Blanca Nolledo <bnolledo@gmail.com>
Cc: rhernandez@olpeace.org; carloravancho@yahoo.com; bettydefensor@yahoo.com; chulada-15@hotmail.com; corandgrace@msn.com
Sent: Sun, December 26, 2010 5:44:29 AM
Subject: Re: Goofing...
Not to worry Blanca,
i goof at something at least once a day!
Merry Christmas!
_______
On Dec 25, 2010, at 11:14 AM, Blanca Nolledo wrote:
Yesterday, I shopped and I cooked and I booked (for airline)
and hosted unexpected guests,
as I read and memorized.
And then I goofed at church. Mea culpa.
But today and tomorrow, I choose the words:
unmulti-task and stay focused. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!
Blanca
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